


The Best Days Always Come From You

by hotarubi_e



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (does Keith being hungry enough to pass out count?), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Comfort, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), I'm Bad At Summaries, Keith's having the worst week, Lance buys him food and makes it better, M/M, Paramedic Lance (Voltron), Sickfic, beginning of their relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:12:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotarubi_e/pseuds/hotarubi_e
Summary: Keith is having the worst week, half-starved and jobless, with no idea how he's supposed to make it better. But when he quite literally runs into a decidedly attractive tanned stranger in a rainy backstreet, things seem to start looking up.One trip to a diner and a life story that sounds like a country song later, and Keith all of a sudden has something to look forward to. And that something's name is Lance.---This is a collection of snippets from Lance and Keith's life together, from meeting all the way through their highs and lows, and everything they encounter in between.--P.S. it will be more chapters, I just don't know how to change the thing to 1/?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> So while I should be doing uni work, I decided instead to write a fic inspired by my very bad week™
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this fluffy Klance ~ !

Keith was having a bad week. His application for the job of his dreams had been unceremoniously rejected after months of hard work and hoping for a change to his otherwise lacklustre life. The words _‘we feel you would be unsuitable for this position with your current standard of work’_ rang in his head like a mantra, and try as he might, he just couldn’t get them to stop. He had poured his heart and soul into the paintings he had submitted alongside the application, and if that wasn’t good enough then he just didn’t know what would be. 

 

He was also broke. The application had cost him nearing a hundred dollars to submit and fill, and all of his painting supplies were really eating into his already meagre savings. He had checked his bank balance, and the little alert to tell him that he only had three hundred dollars to last him the next two months had nearly bought him to his knees. It wouldn’t even cover rent, and Keith had absolutely no idea what to do. 

 

Even his online life was going to hell; shortly after leaving college, Keith had set up a store on his website for the sale of his paintings, and so far it had bought in a thin, but steady trickle of money. Until this week, at least, when a surprisingly large number of people had decided to ignore the copyright on his pictures and use the images for themselves. And trying to get the rights back was proving to be more troublesome than it was perhaps worth as said individuals had taken to abusing him and his work on his comments page. The desire to simply shut it all down and begin again was almost impossible to ignore, but he knew that if he did, he would lose the years of effort and toil it had taken to forge out even such a tiny niche in the market. Beginning again would do nothing but put him straight back to square one, and that was something that his finances just couldn’t afford. 

 

But to top it all off, his beloved cat Red had died early on Monday morning. She had been ill for a long time, Keith knew, being old as she was and on more medications than Keith could either count or afford, but the loss had still struck him hard and to a depth he simply hadn’t ever imagined. He had walked into his living room at six am, ready to start a day of hard work in his studio only to find Red splayed out on the ground in so much pain that he’d had no other choice: he’d taken her to the vet to be put down. 

 

It didn’t even bother him, really, that the procedure had been the expense that pushed his finances from tight-but-doable over into I’m-so-fucked-I-can’t-even-afford-food, but the loss of Red herself was crushing. He’d had her since he was seven, and her presence in his life had been the only constant that had gotten him through some of the hardest times he had ever experienced. Without her waiting at home, ready and willing to jump into his lap with a curt little meow at the end of the day, Keith didn’t know how to function. It had made home the last place he wanted to be, but with the way his financial situation was going, it was looking like that was going to be the only place he had left - he was going to lose his studio. 

 

He sighed, pulling his coat a little tighter against his neck in lieu of a hood. He had tried to go to his studio and do some work, but when he had realised that he was out of at least three different types of paint, he had promptly given up and retreated into the depths of the city to try and find some kind of escape. Even the rain currently battering down on him from above wasn’t quite enough to tempt him back home, but the angry rumble in his stomach might have succeeded sooner than he would care to admit. Even if it _would_ be empty and uninviting without the company of Red. Two days of her absence and he felt like he was crumbling. Keith hadn’t realised just how little he had in his life until she was gone, and he didn’t know how to make it better. 

 

Sure, he could call Shiro, ask for some money to tide him over until he found another job, but the mere idea of burdening his adoptive brother was like a sharp poker to the chest. He had never been an easy brother to have, what with his wayward tendencies and proficiency for trouble, but Shiro had always been there, always pulled him through the other side and held his hand as he battled all the demons vying in his head. To ring him now with yet another problem was more than Keith could handle, and he just didn’t want to do it. 

 

Pulling his coat tighter still, he turned out from the back alley he had been walking onto the main street of downtown. All around him life sung with a vibrancy Keith thought he had once known, and he watched idly as the street vendors fought against the rain to sell their wares, a new sense of admiration burgeoning in his gut. To stand day after day in the fifth of the city streets, calling and yelling for any customers they could get seemed such a show of resilience to Keith, that even his own trouble seemed somehow silly in comparison. But that was life, he figured; there was always going to be someone facing more dire straights, and somehow still standing back up and carrying on. 

 

And in light of the hunger growing in Keith’s pitifully empty stomach, standing up was about all he could manage. 

 

He grumbled, rubbing a gloved hand tenderly over his belly as he willed the pangs to just go away. The pressure _did_ alleviate a little of the ache, but the deep, bone breaking hunger that had been growing since the night before couldn’t be bought off by tenderness alone. He needed to eat, and he needed to eat soon.

 

Passing by a particularly fragrant stand, Keith couldn’t stop the tempted turn of his head as the smell of hotdogs and burgers caught his nose. They were only a couple of dollars each, but even a cursory check of his pockets would reveal little over sixty cents accompanying the lint and broken pencils. Another, louder pang echoed from the pit of his being at the sheer _closeness_ of the food, and with a frown to rival all others, he turned sharply away, cursing the very existence of money and all that it stood for. It didn’t seem quite fair, somehow, that he worked so damn hard and received so little in return. It made him want to weep with the cruelty of it all, if of course, crying was something that Keith did. 

 

He had just enough money on him to perhaps afford a coffee at a diner, and that would at least take away the chill he could feel cementing his bones. Sixty cents wasn’t going to buy him much else, so he didn’t feel too guilty about spending it, but the little voice in the back of his head that cursed his flippant life choices still made an unwelcome appearance. Glowering into the street, he told it in no uncertain terms to shut the hell up and let him have his coffee in peace. 

 

The diner he had in mind was about three blocks away, and to save time - and perhaps a few degrees on his core body temperature - he turned back into the alleyways winding behind the buildings, thanking his lucky stars for the first time in days that he knew plenty of shortcuts. His newfound feelings of gratitude did not last long, however, as four steps into the alley, Keith felt his body collide with a surprisingly solid entity travelling in the opposite direction. Swearing loudly, he stumbled, managing only to catch himself at the last second before his arse collided with the cold, wet floor beneath him. 

 

‘What the _fuck?’_

 

The voice hadn’t belonged to Keith, and looking up, he was met by the sight of a slim young man sitting hip deep in a puddle. Keith didn’t even want to consider what the puddle might have contained aside from water, and brushed the thought off as said other human slammed his hands down into it, sending a thick spray of water shooting through the air. 

 

‘Fucking stop!’ Keith snapped, darting out of the way just in time to avoid the devilled spray. ‘Seriously, that’s so uncool!’

 

‘ _That’s_ uncool?!’ Mysterious-man-with-the-tan hissed, pushing himself to his feet with a moan that might have been equal parts pity and horror. ‘You pushed me into a puddle!’

 

‘Oh, _I_ pushed you, did I? That’s rich, coming from the guy that _walked the fuck into me_ ,’ Keith felt his previous glower growing to exponential levels. Whoever the guy was, Keith did _not_ like him. What a way to make his already terrible week just that bit worse. 

 

‘Dude, you totally walked into _me!_ ’ The stranger said, jabbing a sopping finger into his own chest for emphasis. ‘I was just walkin’ along, minding my own business, then out of nowhere you just knock me flat on my ass!’

 

Keith huffed aggressively, crossing his arms over his chest. His attempts at fending off the rain had been long forgotten, and now his primary concern was nothing more than teaching the arsehole in front of him some respect. 

 

‘Not my fault you weren’t looking where you were going,’

 

‘You’re one to talk! If you were looking where you were going, then why the hell didn’t you get out of my way!’

 

Okay, so he had a point there, and Keith felt his flimsy anger dissipating slightly at the rebuff. He shook his head, mentally snapping at himself - he had done nothing wrong, and _this guy_ was a total, complete and utter dick for suggesting that he had. However, along with his renewed sense of righteousness, came another pang of hunger, and Keith felt himself waver slightly on his feet. Shoving his hands out in an attempt to combat the lightheadedness, he stumbled, catching hold of the dumpster by his side for support. 

 

‘Oh don’t go acting all damsel-in-destress, you ass!’ the stranger squealed, apparently having taken Keith’s slip as nothing short of melodrama. ‘I didn’t bump into you _that_ hard,’

 

‘Shut your mouth,’ Keith managed, pouring all of the venom his waning mind could manage into his voice as he glared up at the stranger through half lidded eyes. ‘You obviously did if you ended up on the floor,’

 

The stranger could do nothing for a few moments but squawk in protest, his hands flung out wide as though he were trying to scare Keith with how much room his body could take up alone. ‘You -! You’re a real asshole, do you know that?’ 

 

Keith glared in response. He didn’t think he could manage words anymore, not with the way his mind was swirling in his head.

 

‘Like, seriously? What is your _problem?_ Do you think you’re better than me or something? All you had to do was apologise for knocking me over, but no ~! You couldn’t even manage _that!_ I bet you’re some spoiled brat from a rich family that thinks the world revolves around them,’

 

And that, it seemed, was enough to make Keith’s body betray him entirely. With something that might have been a strangled yelp, Keith felt his knees give out and let himself fall to the floor, his back hitting painfully against the dumpster’s side. But worst of all, worse than everything else that had happened that day, he started to cry. 

 

Head hung low between his knees, he felt the traitorous tears track their way down his cheeks and into his collar, small hiccuping sobs wracking his chest and bouncing up his throat. He couldn’t even feel embarrassed - he was too hungry for that. 

 

It wasn’t even a minute before he heard the cry of alarm from the stranger standing over him, and felt rather than saw him crouch down in front of Keith. 

 

‘Oh - oh my God, are you.. - are you _crying?’_ He asked, hands fluttering somewhat uselessly around Keith’s face, as though unsure whether touching him would result in physical injury or not. ‘Shit, I am so sorry, I - I didn’t mean to make..-‘

 

‘I’m _not_ crying!’ Keith hissed, whacking one hand out limply to knock the stranger’s concerns away. However all it really did was destabilise Keith’s already precarious position and make him slump further into the ground. If it hadn’t been for the hands that shot out to catch him by the arms, Keith thought he might have gone face first into the dirt. 

 

‘Dude, you clearly are, there’s no point denying it,’ he insisted, righting Keith somewhat against the dumpster. ‘seriously, what’s wrong? Is it what I said? I didn’t mean to be that rude, it’s just - I mean, you were pretty harsh yourself, you know?’

 

‘It’s not that..’ Keith shook his head, giving up on trying to maintain any kind of dignity - he was sitting in a puddle, soaking wet, starved half to death and crying. What dignity was there left to preserve? ‘I’ve just.. had a _really_ bad week, and I.. I guess it was just too much..’

 

‘What’s your name?’

 

‘..Keith..’

 

‘Okay, Keith, I’m Lance, and I gotta admit buddy, I’m a little worried about how pale you are - are you sick?’

 

Keith just shook his head again. 

 

‘Alright, well.. when was the last time you ate anything? You’re _really_ pale, and you look kinda out of it,’

 

Bingo. ‘Lance’ was right on the money, and it pissed Keith of an inordinate amount. Keith shrugged, trying his hardest to change the direction of the conversation. It probably wasn’t his fault that in his current state his hardest wasn’t that good at all. 

 

‘Keith, you gotta work with me here - when did you last eat something?’

 

‘..Yesterday..’

 

‘Okay, what time yesterday?’

 

Keith sighed, letting Lance take a little more of his weight. ‘..Morning.. I guess..’

 

‘You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning? Well, no wonder you weren’t looking where you were going, you’re probably delirious,’

 

Lance let go of Keith for a moment to rummage in his pockets, before coming out with a packet of tissues. ‘Sadly I don’t have any food on me at the moment, but I can offer you this - for you tears,’

 

‘..I’m _not_ crying..’ Keith huffed, but took the offered tissues anyway as a small sniff broke through his defences. He pulled one out and rubbed it against his cheek, wondering for a moment what the point was when it was still pelting with rain. But, he guessed, the intention was kind, and that was something. 

 

‘Sure, whatever you say, mullet,’

 

‘.. _Mullet?’_

 

‘Yeah, you have a mullet,’

 

Keith was about to yell, to tell Lance to just fuck off and leave him alone if he was going to insult him, when he looked up and saw something he hadn’t expected. Lance was smiling. And it was a smile so warm that Keith thought, just for a moment, that it was like the sun. 

 

‘Whatever..’ he said instead, letting his head duck back down with a small whimper as another wave of dizziness washed over him. 

 

‘Okay, you know what? I don’t usually do this, but I think you really need to eat something. I’m _guessing_ if you haven’t eaten since yesterday morning you don’t have much money?’ Keith shook his head again, regretting it mildly as it sparked a headache at the base of his neck. ‘Then come with me - I’ll buy you a meal, and you can tell me all about your shitty week,’

 

‘Why would you do that for me?’ Keith asked, eyeing Lance with a level of skepticism that would make even Shiro quake. However all it did to Lance was draw another smile from the depths of his face. 

 

‘Well, for one, you look really pathetic just sitting here, and I’m kind of concerned that you might die if I leave you, but for two, I’m a paramedic. It’s kind of my job to look after people when they’re sick or hurt, you know,’ 

 

‘’m not going to the hospital,’ Keith muttered, but didn’t fight it as Lance pulled him to his feet. He swayed slightly, but Lance’s hand on his shoulder kept him steady.

 

‘Dude, I’m not taking you there,’ Lance grinned, patting Keith’s arm softly as he watched him waver. ‘Just over to a diner for something to eat - the hospital I work for doesn’t really admit people just for free food, you know? Think you can make it a couple blocks over?’

 

Nodding, Keith took a step after Lance, noticing belatedly that they were walking the same way he had been going when they bumped into each other. In his decidedly damaged state, the idea of Lance taking him to the same diner he had been intending was too comical to deal with. 

 

‘What’s so funny?’ Lance asked, turning back to look at Keith as his laughter wafted over to his ears. 

 

‘Nothing,’ Keith insisted, trying and failing to keep his chuckling at bay. ‘Just.. I was heading in this direction..’

 

‘Uhh.. okay? I kinda knew that already..’ But Lance couldn’t stop the giggle of reciprocation that slipped through his lips at the look of childish glee in Keith’s eyes. Really he knew it was just the hunger messing with Keith’s ability to rationalise, but it was endearing all the same. In fact, it was down right _adorable._ Lance turned his head away as fast as he could, willing the blush he could feel spreading across his cheeks to just go away. He was going to get into a _lot_ of trouble thanks to Keith.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

‘Alright, order whatever you want, but make sure it has vegetables, okay?’ Lance instructed once they were sat in the window seat of Lance’s favourite diner. Eyeing him cynically, Keith plucked a menu from the salt and pepper rack and flipped it open.

 

‘What if I don’t _want_ vegetables? What if I just want a burger?’

 

Lance sighed, flicking open his own menu. ‘Keith, just eat the damned vegetables, okay? Your body is seriously lacking in nutrients, and if you only eat meat and carbs you’ll feel better for about four hours before you crash again. You need the vegetables to give your body the energy and vitamins it needs to recover,’

 

‘Whatever you say, Mr. Nurse-Man..’

 

‘I’m _not_ a nurse - I’m a _paramedic._ We’ve been over this..’ Lance dropped his face into his hands. Apparently, Keith was what would be known as a _trouble patient._ It made him secretly thankful that he hadn’t needed to call the incident in. 

 

‘So.. gonna tell me why you haven’t been eating?’ he asked after a moment of silent browsing. He raised an eyebrow as he watched Keith’s hands tense around the menu.

 

‘I-it’s not like I _haven’t_ been eating..’ he mumbled, doing his utmost to avoid eye contact. ‘I just.. haven’t been eating a _lot.._ ‘

 

‘Not eating for over twenty four hours constitutes ‘not eating’, dumbass,’

 

‘..Fine, whatever. I just..’ Keith sighed, dropping the menu and taking a sip from the cola Lance had insisting on ordering for him as soon as they had walked through the diner’s doors. According to him, the sugar would ‘help keep him running’ while they waited for the food. Loathe as he would be to admit it, it _was_ helping. ‘I haven’t got any money at the moment. I’m a painter, and well.. I guess my paintings aren’t really selling right now. I kind of lost my job about a month or so ago, and I was living off the income my art bought in, but… that ran out the other day,’

 

‘Why? Did you budget badly?’

 

Keith hissed in irritation. ‘No! I don’t budget badly, god.. I _am_ capable of making money last, you know?’

 

‘Then how did you mess it up so bad you couldn’t afford food?’ Lance’s question was entirely innocent, and the open confusion on his face was enough to bring Keith back down from his anger. Breathing heavily, he took another sip of cola before answering.

 

‘My cat died. She was sick, and I.. I had to take her to be put down. I knew I couldn’t really afford it, but.. what other choice did I have? I wasn’t gonna let her _suffer…_ but it was so expensive.. Before that I had enough for rent and food for a while, but now I’m down to three hundred dollars and that’s not even enough to keep my apartment next month. And my paintings aren’t selling ‘cause some _assholes_ ignored the copyrights and reported _me_ for stealing _their_ work. I had to close the shop on my website until it’s all sorted,’

 

Lance just blinked at him for a few moments, making Keith briefly consider the thought that his country-song-life was maybe a little too depressing to have shared. ‘Dude..’ he said after a while, eyes wide and staring. ‘That.. seriously sucks. Like, if my cat Blue was in that position, I’d be a _wreck!_ No way would I cope with that. Finances aside, I am _so sorry_ you had to go through that..’

 

‘Thanks..’ Keith said, somewhat weakly. All Shiro had said was that Keith could always find another cat, and while he understood that animals weren’t always treated like people, it had still stung. Lance was the first person to treat Keith like he was actually _grieving,_ and it felt strangely nice to have it acknowledged. 

 

‘But seriously, what are you gonna do about the money thing?’ Lance asked once their orders had been placed and the food had arrived at their table. Keith took a little too long to answer him as his eyes devoured the burger, fries and salad sitting before him. ‘Keith?’

 

‘Huh? Oh, sorry - um.. I dunno..’ he shrugged, shoving the burger unceremoniously into his mouth.

 

‘Woah, woah, woah,’ Lance called, reaching across the table to grab Keith’s wrist with a laugh. ‘Slow down! Seeing as it’s been so long since you’ve eaten, you need to take it slow, or you’ll make yourself sick,’

 

‘But I’m _hungry,’_ Keith protested, cheeks bulging against the food squirrelled away within them. Lance just smiled and forced Keith’s hands back down to the plate. 

 

‘I _know,_ but it’s not like the food’s going anywhere. Eat slowly, or I’ll take your fries away,’ the indignant huff that drew from Keith was enough to dissolve Lance into a peal of laughter. ‘Alright, alright, I’ll leave the fries! But please eat slower, I don’t want to have to take you to the hospital ‘cause you made yourself sick on a burger,’

 

‘No hospital,’ Keith hissed, narrowing his eyes at Lance suspiciously. Lance raised his hands in surrender.

 

‘No hospital. If you promise to eat properly,’

 

‘..Fine..’ Keith put the burger down, deciding to chew what he already had in his mouth before shovelling more in. 

 

‘Good. Now, money - can’t you get another job?’

 

‘I’m looking,’ Keith told him around a few fries. ‘But I got turned down from the job I really wanted the other day, so I’m kinda still reeling from that I guess,’

 

‘Shit, dude, you’re luck is terrible. What job was it?’

 

‘Um, it was a position in a gallery downtown. Every year they give artists the chance to work for them and have their paintings or whatever shown in the gallery for free. The artist gets a small grant to live on, and two thirds of any money from sales. I’ve been after it for years now, and I really thought I had it this time.’ He shoved another mouthful of burger into his mouth, head bobbing as he fought to chew it down. Maybe Lance had been onto something with eating slowly - he could feel his stomach filling up already. 

 

‘That sounds pretty cool..’ Lance said, watching Keith curiously, one eyebrow raised into his hairline. There was something about Keith that he couldn’t quite pin down, something almost wild and feral that struck Keith out as a tornado in disguise. It was a little frightening, but Lance couldn’t honestly say that he didn’t like it - it was like Keith was just so full of _life_ that it was bursting out from his seams, as though his body couldn't possibly contain all that energy. He blinked, willing the thoughts away. Keith was the exact type of person his family always warned him away from. ‘but can’t you find a different gallery?’

 

Keith blinked up at him, and for a moment the wide eyed innocent stare was so disarming that Lance thought he might choke. ‘I have,’ Keith said decisively. ‘I’ve found loads, and I’ve got a couple paintings in a few, but big galleries don’t really take work from unheard of artists like me. That’s what made the other one so special - they’re _huge,_ but they still take in relative unknowns every year. If I got a place with them I’d be set for life. I wouldn’t have to work a side job, and I could just paint all day everyday, no problem,’

 

‘Oh.. sorry, I don’t really know a lot about art,’ Lance laughed, rubbing the back of his head in abandon. The art world was entirely new to him, and if he was honest, before hearing Keith talk about it, it had never been something that held even the smallest interest. 

 

‘It’s cool,’ Keith grinned, sticking his fork into the salad. ‘I get that art isn’t everyone’s thing, it’s just mine. It got me through a lot at school, and kinda helped me get back on the right path, I guess,’

 

‘Ah, were you a hell raiser, or something?’ Lance’s eyes twinkled, despite the knowledge that his parents would be cursing his poor life choices right about now. Flirting with trouble makers was _not_ what they considered evidence of good decision making skills. 

 

‘That’s putting it mildly. Honestly, it’s a wonder my family kept me,’

 

‘Dude, they can’t just hand you back!’ He laughed, picturing a mother trying to hand her offspring back over to the hospital in exchange for another.

 

‘They can if you’re adopted,’ Keith said lightly, thinking nothing of the weight of his sentence. ‘Shiro - he’s my brother, my adoptive one, I guess - is like, a goddamned _saint_ for sticking with me. _I_ wouldn’t even have stuck with me through some of the shit I pulled, but he was always there, just kinda waiting for me to get my act together. He was the sole reason why I went to college - I wanted to pay him back for everything he’d done, prove that I could be a responsible adult for once. And I am officially four years clean of any kind of trouble; bar fights, drunken mess ramblings and 3-am-police-station-phone-calls to my decidedly-disappointed-older-brother included,’ he waved his fork through the air, a high note of pride whisking its way into his voice. At least until he caught sight of Lance’s face and thought better of his trip down memory lane. ‘Uh..sorry.. oversharing..’

 

‘Oh my god.. you’re the guy my parents warned me against..’

 

‘..Huh?’

 

‘Not like, _you_ specifically, but your _type_ of guy, you know? Crazy pretty, bad boy with a rap sheet and a soft spot for small animals, kinda guy,’

 

‘..You think I’m pretty?’ Really, that shouldn’t have been the part of the conversation that stuck out in Keith’s mind, but in lieu of half of his brain cells - which had died sometime around that morning - that was what he was left with. 

 

‘Y-you know, I wasn’t really supposed to say that bit.. or _any_ of it really,’ Lance backtracked, scratching his cheek as his blush spread like wildfire over his face. ‘but, damn it, your story was just too sad and _God_ do your eyes sparkle, and I guess I maybe got a little bit lost inside of my own head and fuck my life I’m doing it again _right now.’_ He didn’t think he had ever cursed his own lose lips quite so much in his life as he did right then.

 

But when Lance finally dared a glance at Keith’s face, he paused, eyes popping wide in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Keith was _grinning._ And not in that bad boy I’ll-eat-you-alive-and-make-you-beg-for-more kind of way. No, Keith’s grin was far too bemused and _far_ too reminiscent of a kitten that had just been offered half a salmon to be considered anywhere near dangerous. He looked _cute._ Fuck, Lance was going down, and he was going down _hard._

 

‘I-it’s been a really long time since anyone said that kind of thing about me..’ Keith smiled, ducking his head behind his hair to try and hide his own burgeoning blush. ‘Thank you, Lance..’

 

‘Okay, _woah!_ Did you just _thank_ me.. for calling you _pretty?!_ What kind of world do you think this is?! At least say it back!’

 

Keith’s laugh seemed to fill up the entire diner, and Lance was pleased to notice that much of the colour had returned to his face. He no longer looked so pallid that he might topple over anymore, and Lance considered that to be a job well done in and of itself. Keith’s growing happiness was another matter entirely. 

 

‘Sorry, I’m not.. I’m not good at this type of thing,’ Keith told him eventually, rubbing his own cheek with two paint-covered fingertips. ‘b-but you are.. um.. too,’

 

_‘That’s_ it? _That’s_ my big Cinderella moment with Prince Charming?’ But Lance’s eyes were twinkling again, and his voice filled with a happiness he couldn’t describe rather than indignation at Keith’s blatant lack of verbal skills.

 

‘Don’t push it, asshole, I told you what you wanted.. and like it or not, I _meant_ it..’ he shoved the last few fried between his teeth and chewed irritably. It didn’t miss his attention that that might have been his last meal for quite some time. 

 

‘Okay, I’ll take what I can get,’ Lance smiled, chewing his bottom lip as he thought about what to do next. Sure, Keith had technically called him pretty, but was that justification for asking him out? He might have just meant it in a purely physical sense, with no underlying attraction. 

 

But before Lance could really consider it, Keith was pushing himself from the table, significantly more steady on his feet now that his stomach was full of food. 

 

‘I-I should probably be heading off,’ he said, pointing arbitrarily over his shoulder towards the door. ‘I’ve got a lot of job hunting to do, and I want to get it done before I need to eat again,’

 

‘Wait -! Do you even have any food at home?’

 

Keith wavered, considering a lie, before seeming to think better of himself. ‘I.. have some rice? I mean, I know it’s not a lot, but I figure it’ll keep me going for a couple days if I ration it. That should be long enough to find some kind of work, and with this -‘ he waved at the table where the last few crumbs of his burger bun littered his plate. ‘- I should be good for a while,’

 

‘No, no, no, no, no, _not_ happening, my dude. Not _at all._ There is _no way_ I am letting you walk out of here if you’re just gonna go and get yourself into the same predicament all over again. Hand me your phone,’ Lance reached his hand out to emphasise his point, waiting with one eyebrow patiently raised while Keith seemed to deliberate his available options. Sighing, he finally dipped into his pocket and handed it over. Lance drew in a sharp breath at the sight of the old model Nokia that greeted him.

 

‘What?’ Keith snapped, folding his arms over his chest defensively. ‘It’s cheeper than a smart phone, and doesn’t break if you drop it like a shitty apple thing,’

 

‘It’s called an iPhone, dude,’ Lance muttered abstractly as he punched his number into Keith’s grandmother of a phone. He held it back out for Keith to reclaim.

 

‘Whatever,’ he said, but he couldn’t resist taking a look at his brand new contact. _Lance ‘diner’ McClain._ The name was right there, along with a number the correct amount of digits long. Lance had given him his number. He wanted to keep in contact with Keith. He felt another wave of heat rise up his cheeks. ‘Just so you know, I’m not some charity case, okay? I’m not gonna let you just buy me food until I’m back on my feet,’

 

‘I know,’ Lance grinned. ‘Consider this payment,’

 

When Keith just stared at him in confusion, Lance laughed like Christmas. ‘I’m gonna get you to paint me something,’ he smiled, eyes softening at the look of wonder crossing over Keith’s face. ‘I wanna see your work, Keith. I need to know what all this fuss is about. Now hurry it up!’ He waved his hand at Keith’s phone impatiently. ‘Send me a text so I can think of a good screen name for you, Mr. Pretty-Diner-Man - ohhh, that’s a _good_ one…!’

 

Yep, Lance was down hard. But then again, so was Keith, so it looked like the week to end all other terrible weeks was just ever so slightly looking up.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell about Klance with me! <3 https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hotarubi-e


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